


Do Not Pass Go

by KittySmith



Series: Madness Monopoly [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost epilogue compliant, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Second Chances, teetering on the edge of a crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittySmith/pseuds/KittySmith
Summary: Return to the start. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200 dollars. Harry and pals' ultimate spell goes awry, and Voldemort is reverted to a baby, brain and all. Everyone deserves a second chance, and this time, Harry's making sure Voldemort gets it.





	Do Not Pass Go

**Author's Note:**

> Differences between my site versions?  
> A little formatting.
> 
> (AKA also found on my ffnet account)

"I..." Harry lifted the bundle of squalling baby that was once the Dark Lord Voldemort gently, and cradled him to his chest, "I shall raise you as my own."

"Um, Harry, I thought we did all this to  _kill_ Voldemort," Ron put in hesitantly, a bit unnerved at his friend's vehemence.

"We couldn't kill a  _baby_ ," Hermione reasoned, already poking the former Dark Lord's nose curiously from her spot at Harry's shoulder, "If whatever went wrong with the spell reverses at any point, of course we'll take care of things, but we're  _not_ going  _that_ far."

"I shall raise him as my own," Harry repeated affirmatively, and the baby quieted, man and child staring at each other with equal fascination.

"What'll Ginny say?" Ron tried in a last ditch effort as Harry and Hermione wandered off the battlefield towards Hogwarts to spread the good news.

.

On the whole, Harry's decision to rehabilitate baby Volders was met with approval from the wizarding world. Despite Ron's bewildered protests, most people were of Hermione's mindset. They couldn't kill a  _baby._ When Harry plopped the little Dark Lord in Ron's lap one day, telling "Uncle Ron" to watch the munchkin while he took a shower, Ron found himself with a moral quandary.

"I should kill you," he told the child, and it stared up at him with big, green eyes, not unlike Harry's. Unnervingly quiet child, he was. Then again, Harry had told him that the first time through, Tom had unsettled the orphanage matron with his quietness as a babe, as well. It wasn't necessarily proof something was horribly wrong with this situation. Sighing at him, the baby fidgeted and grabbed his hand, clutching one digit in a death grip before he calmed. Ron twitched at the action, "Stop being adorable." Big eyes met his again, and Ron trailed off with a quiet, "Nooo…"

On Harry's return, he found Ron seriously and at length informing the child of wizarding law in the British community. "Uncle Ron doesn't want to have to arrest you before you go crazy," he was explaining to the wide eyed baby.

"Uncle Ron needs to remember Voldie's a baby right now," Harry cut in, plucking the child deftly from Ron's lap, "And babies don't need to hear about how illegal murder is."

"That's another thing," Ron said in the same serious tone, "Don't you think you should call him something else?"

"But he likes that name, don't you, Voldie?" Harry tickled the baby's tummy and "Voldie" giggled, Harry presenting the laugh as if it was evidence with a spoken, "See?"

"Jeez, it's like you're  _trying_ to keep him crazy," Ron joked, and Harry smiled, excusing himself for his pre-classes walk about with Voldie.

.

When Voldie was three, Harry's friends began to question Harry's methods of child-rearing.

"Look, Voldie, a new minion!" Harry exclaimed, taking Voldie down from his shoulders as the child cheered on his deposit into the playpen in Hermione's living room. Hugo, Hermione and Ron's two year old, graciously accepted this designation by completely ignoring it.

Touching his shoulder, Hermione said softly, "Harry, can I speak with you privately?"

"Sure," Harry let her lead him into the dining room, leaving Ron to supervise the children. He sat across from her and prompted, "What's up?"

"Ginny and I have been talking," she started carefully, "and we have some concerns about what you've been teaching Voldie."

"I  _told_ her I'd get to crossing the street next week," Harry groaned, "It's not as important in a village that's mostly magic folk."

"No, that's not it." Pausing to reorder her argument, Hermione continued, "We're worried that the things you  _are_ teaching him aren't quite… appropriate for his age level."

"He  _is_ a genius," Harry pointed out, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, Harry; Ginny's told me you've been teaching him about  _politics_? And dueling? She's even said you keep some of your conversations secret from her by speaking in Parseltongue. This…" Hermione bit her lip, "It doesn't look  _good,_ Harry."

"Don't you want  _Hugo_  to do well in life?" Harry asked leadingly, "Wouldn't you teach him how to navigate the craziness of the world right now if you could? Teach him how to defend himself?"

"Well… Hugo is just a child."

"So, it's not that I'm teaching him things inappropriate for his  _age_ ," Harry accused, "but that success leads to being a Dark Lord."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all," Hermione tried and Harry waved it off.

"Look, I know. This isn't you talking. You're one of my best friends, and I know you trust me; if Ginny's got worries, she needs to tell me herself, not foist them off on you," he played with the edge of the tablecloth, frustration fading to a sort of melancholy, "I didn't even know she felt that way. When she visits, she always takes the time to play with Voldie. Voldie and I were planning- I thought maybe we could… Well, we'll have to talk about all this before I make any crazy decisions, now. Just 'cause you and Ron jumped in feet first doesn't mean it's right for all of us, yeah?" He laughed, and the last piece fell into place for Hermione.

"Oh, those conversations you and Voldie had," she took Harry's hand, "You were planning to propose, weren't you? And Voldie was going to help?"

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, cheeks darkening, "I wanted him to feel like a part of the process." He pulled his hand away, "But, it's clear Ginny's still got some issues to work out with Voldie, and we shouldn't force anything until that's over with."

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione sighed, and later that night, when she told Ron about this (who told George, who told Charlie, who told Bill, who told Fleur, who told Ginny) Harry's choices in raising Voldie were far from their minds. At least, for a time.

.

"To Hogwarts!" Harry cried, running with Voldie through the barrier, as they pushed Voldie's cart together. They made quite a picture, red cheeked with exertion and laughing, as Voldie glanced adoringly up at his father every once in a while. No one could say Harry was a  _bad_ father, even if he was a bit… Unorthodox.

Among Harry's friends, Voldie shared the position of oldest offspring with Teddy Lupin, his godbrother (a term Harry had coined and implemented), and the two of them were to meet up on the platform before boarding.

Searching the crowd, Harry spotted a familiar face and called, "Andromeda!" The elderly woman turned, smiling when she saw whom it was and heading towards them, Teddy in tow. The four met halfway, and Voldie and Teddy exchanged grins as Harry babbled over them at Andromeda.

"Excited?" Teddy asked, sotto voice, unwilling to disrupt his godfather's stream of consciousness.

"Completely," Voldie replied, pulling a perfect poker face as he continued, "And yourself?"

"My hair isn't flashing because Grandmother charmed it so," Teddy said, trying and failing to keep a similarly blank face, and Voldie mirrored the grin that quickly broke through.

The train wasn't long in coming into the station, making a noise like a thousand echoing screams as it came to a stop, and the two children stared entranced while the adults winced.

"Wicked?" Harry prompted, nudging his son's shoulder to attempt breaking the spell.

"Wicked," Voldie breathed in agreement.

After they helped the two get their luggage up the steps and into the train, Andromeda and Harry hugged the boys good bye and waved off the train.

"Shame Ginny and you didn't work out," Andromeda remarked casually, "Every boy wants a mother to kiss them goodbye."

Harry blinked at her innocently, "Isn't that what we have you for?"

.

"…Potter, Voldie," Professor Finnegan read from the scroll, and Voldie nodded at Teddy's thumbs up from the Ravenclaw table.

Harry had worked tirelessly at clearing the taint from Slytherin after the war, but if Voldie could get into a different House, it would be all the better for his continued existence. They both doubted the likelihood of it, though, and Harry had even forced himself to give an interview with the Daily Prophet about raising Voldie.

He'd thrown in charming stories of the boy's youth and, when the pre-arranged question regarding Hogwarts Houses came up, asserted that Voldie was likely to end up in Slytherin regardless of his own personality just because he had a direct line of descent from its founder.

No need to start riots over the person Harry vanquished to create him, after all. Voldemort didn't even exist now.

Still, Voldie was nervous as he approached the stool.

"Not Slytherin," he whispered as the Hat fell over his eyes.

There was a beat of silence. "Where else could you go?" It replied.

.

In Voldie's third year, Harry told him where the Chamber of Secrets was.

"It's never been completely explored," he explained, "And I figured you could add to the Marauder's Map." Voldie stared at him in ill-disguised shock, and Harry grinned, "Oh, didn't I say I was giving it to you this year?"

"No!" The boy exclaimed, "I mean, I knew you got it in  _your_ third year, so I was  _hoping_ , but then you said you were going to tell me where the Chamber of Secrets was and I thought I wasn't getting it this year and- Maybe you were going to give it to Teddy, instead."

"Why would I do that?" Harry put an arm around Voldie's shoulders, squeezing him slightly against his side on the couch, "You're my son."

"He's actually  _descended_ from a Marauder, though," Voldie pointed out, "Plus, the Marauders didn't exactly like Slytherins."

"They liked Potters," Harry shrugged, "My grandmother Dorea was a Slytherin and they adored her."

"They didn't even  _know_ she was a Slytherin," Voldie sulked, perversely a little more put out that Harry was so easily dismissing his concerns than relieved to have them taken care of.

"You need to learn to enjoy when you're wrong about something that goes well," Harry informed him with a tinge of amusement, "Or would you prefer I keep the map?"

"No, no, no, I'm very happy with everything," Voldie asserted.

"Good, now back to that lesson on the less detectable poisons."

"I'm still being happy," Voldie began cautiously, "but no one else has to have lessons over the summer. I asked."

Harry ruffled his hair, "They aren't getting the map, either."

.

His fifth year, Voldie was not made prefect.

"Neither was I," Harry said when the envelope contained only his school letter and materials list, "Though you probably have the highest grade in your year and I was more E's and A's."

"They've  _never_ caught me breaking a rule," Voldie wrapped his arms around himself, "I'm exemplary! I help first years!"

Humming thoughtfully, Harry sat in the chair beside him, "They're likely just worried. Voldemort was a prefect, and then Head Boy, after all. It doesn't excuse them, but it explains it a little."

"Ugh," Voldie turned and buried his face in his father's shoulder in a display of affection that was becoming rarer and rarer as he aged. His voice was muffled, "How are you always so patient?"

"I got out all my impatience in the war," Harry informed him matter-of-factly, "And in dealing with your propensity to projectile vomit when ill up until you turned ten."

"Dad," Voldie groaned.

"Speaking of, didn't I hear that you got so nervous about asking out a certain blonde Weasley we know that instead you vomited on her shoes and vanished until the next morning?"

"Dad!" He shot back into his own seat, "I told Teddy not to tell you! That was months ago!"

Laugh lines crinkled around Harry's eyes, "And it will never get old."

.

In Voldie's sixth year, Harry and Voldie fell out, and Voldie left to live with Andromeda and Teddy for a month. It all  _resolved_  happily, but during that stretch, for the first time, the elder generations' worries made it down to the younger.

"Teddy?" Voldie asked one night, from his transfigured bed in Teddy's room, "You awake?"

"Yeah," Teddy yawned, "Wha's goin' on?"

"Does Aunt Andromeda ever seem… Does she have a lot of expectations for you?"

"Wan's me to be an Auror, like me mum," Teddy mumbled, already contemplating cutting off the conversation in favor of sleep. Voldie's next words stopped him.

"Do you think Harry misses Voldemort like Aunt Andromeda misses your mum?"

Teddy sat up and looked over at Voldie, the boy turning his gaze from the ceiling to meet his, but not rising from the bed. "No. What are you thinking?" For some reason, the thought made Teddy uncomfortable, and he rambled on, "I mean, sure he talks about him a lot, but that's just because that's what the adults  _do_. They talk about the war. …Are you feeling okay?"

Voldie shut his eyes and shook his head, "It's nothing. Just a weird thought. I'm sure I'm sleep deprived or something."

Even though Teddy tried to continue the conversation, Voldie just rolled over and ignored him, so Teddy had to let it go, ignoring his own niggling of doubt. He never saw the half smile worm its way across Voldie's face in the dark.

.

As the years had passed, Voldie had become increasingly independent, and Harry's friends had grown increasingly unsettled as the boy grew into his power.

He was as Tom Riddle had been, charming, intelligent, and full of potential.

They told themselves not to worry; they  _knew_ this boy, had helped in his raising. They knew he was capable of love and compassion that Voldemort had never known.

Still, no matter how ashamed they felt for worrying that the seventeen year old son of their close friend would suddenly lose his mind, the suspicion wouldn't end.

.

Despite the elder generation's wariness as the babe became an adult, Voldie graduated at the top of his class, and went home to Harry's cottage for the last time.

Knocking on the door, he waited patiently for a reply, and when Harry appeared, he intoned coldly, "Father."

Harry nodded, returning just as icily, "Son." They stared at each other for a moment, and a smile cracked across Harry's face until he was laughing like a maniac, Voldie letting a smirk come loose and relaxing. "You're right," Harry gasped, wiping a tear from his eye, "That was worth missing one last pick up from the train. Purebloods are  _mad_."

"And you thought you'd be able to keep a straight face," Voldie teased, leaning on the doorway, "You might've when you were younger, but… Well, you just keep getting older, Dad."

"Oh, get in here," Harry's smile grew bittersweet, "We've got to finish packing your things."

.

"I'm actually glad Voldie's working with the Unspeakables now," Hermione told Ron a few years later as they put away laundry in their youngest's room.

"Yeah, that loyalty oath is nigh unbreakable," Ron replied blithely, and Hermione threw a sock at his face. He caught it a second before impact and sighed in relief. Rose's socks smelled even after a good washing.

"I meant, because it might keep him intellectually stimulated. He was doing great work in the Aurors, but he seemed bored," she corrected, but when he glanced at her knowingly, she added with a tinge of color in her cheeks, "Alright, the oath helps ease my mind, too. He's practically my nephew and Heaven knows Hugo idolizes him, but some days I still worry about him taking over the world."

"At least he's not a pure blood supremist, this go through," Ron offered, and this time the sock hit.

.

As time wore on, Voldie worked his way through nearly every department in the Ministry. It came as no surprise to anyone that he eventually campaigned for the position of Minister- he had friends in places high and low, after all. However, those who remembered the first war were still wary, and their suspicions filtered through to the populace. Minister Susan Bones kept her seat for another year.

"It's blatant prejudice at this point," he complained to his father via mirror, "and the worst part is, I was expecting it."

"You know, it could be much worse," Harry pointed out, doing something out of frame as he continued, "They could have taken you in at age seventeen and thrown you in Azkaban for Voldemort's crimes."

"I know, but- what are you doing?" Voldie tilted the mirror as if it would give him a different viewpoint, "Are you spell crafting while I'm talking to you?"

"Not this time," Harry denied proudly, and produced a little wooden snake, "I've taken up carving, in my copious spare time. Speaking of that spare time, if you ever need me to do anything, and I mean  _anything_ …"

"You're the one who retired, oh,  _Head Unspeakable_  the great," Voldie rolled his eyes, "Honestly, I'm surprised you managed to keep that from our nosy family until retirement."

"Oh, did your aunt interrogate you about it?" Harry asked thoughtfully, picking at a rough spot on his carving.

"More of a rant. The fact that you told both myself, and Uncle Ron, before you told her seemed to be the main topic, despite my own stint in your department."

"Won't be going for Sunday dinner, then."

"I don't think you're  _invited_  this week, Dad."

.

The lack of a country-destroying temper tantrum at his loss, and the public grace with which he accepted said defeat, did a lot for Voldie's image in the public eye. He may have lost the first campaign, and eventually, the second, but it seemed the third time was the charm for Voldie- or as he crowed at the soonest Sunday dinner, Minister Potter.

"I can barely believe it," he told Teddy excitedly, "I'm  _Minister._ Minister Potter. It's magnificent."

"The youngest Minister in a century," Ron put in, leaning over the two on the couch, "Almost as impressive as your father making seeker our first year."

"He's only 25 and head of our Ministry," Victoire defended, "I think that's a bit cooler than getting on a stupid Quidditch team." Ginny patted her shoulder consolingly as she passed by, giving Voldie a nod before vacating the area.

"Trials with the Cannons go poorly, then?" Hugo called from the next room and Victoire stormed out after his fleeing form.

"You've done fantastically."

"Dad!" Voldie jumped up and hugged his soot-covered father, "You heard?"

"When you didn't call me to complain after the results were in, well…" Harry winked, failing to look cool as evidence of his continued inability to master the floo coated his form, "Let's call it a father's intuition."

"I meant to surprise you," he said in something approaching a pout.

"Wouldn't he read about it?" Teddy asked, with no little amusement. The Minister was pouting at Teddy's godfather in his Uncle's living room. Could his day get any better?

"No newspapers," Harry and Voldie chorused at the same time and Teddy raised his hands placatingly, a grin on his face.

At that moment, everything turned orange.

"This better be reversible!" Ron bellowed, and somewhere in the house, a line of laughter answered.

"Your favorite uncle's here," Harry addressed the room, and the youngest Weasley piped up unabashedly, "Unky Geor'!"

Hermione seemed unimpressed.

.

Life flew by.

.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?"

Voldie looked up with surprise, "Dad? What are you doing here?" His father stood before him, on one of the Ministry's lowest levels, leaning lightly on a cane outside Courtroom Ten.

He'd taken the curse a year or two before, when Teddy and Victoire's kids had been the targets of an assassination attempt, and it had done a number on him. He was only 17 years older than Voldie, but the lines in his face ran deeper than that.

"You tell me, Emperor Caesar," he said, shrugging.

"I don't know how you found out when the vote's just gone through the Wizengamot, but it's not like that," Voldie stepped closer, not giving Harry time to respond, "I know you always caution me about arrogance and taking more than I can handle, but we're at  _war_  and it's not like I'd be the worst leader. We need every advantage against the French we can get, Dad, and squabbling over each move isn't getting us anywhere."

"Oh, Voldie," Harry put a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze, "Do you really think I don't know your true motivations?"

He tried to reply, but Harry's eyes were piercing, and Voldie went silent, mind whirring as he desperately sought something that could turn this around.

"And do you really believe I'm not proud?"

Mind blanked. Whirring gone. Voldie gaped at his father, throwing up a privacy ward even in his state, and babbling, "But you- morals and- Dad?"

Harry twinkled at him, tone wry, "What do you think I've been  _raising_ you for? Other than sheer love, obviously." The elder man shook his head, "Of course,  _every_ child learns about etiquette and dueling before their fifth birthday. And, I suppose, it's usual for the average child to know how to kill an attacker with their bare hands or plants in the area in the shortest period of time. Not that I'd have been  _disappointed_ if you didn't make a grab for world domination, but it is nice to see all my hard work was not in error."

Voldie was still open-mouthed, and Harry sighed, "Even the lessons on evading capture from varying groups including  _Aurors_ and the ICW's enforcers didn't make you wonder, huh?" At that, Voldie meant to say something, but Harry rolled along like an unstoppable avalanche, "At first, I was just testing. Seeing if you'd regain your memories. Searching for signs of boredom. But, eventually, I couldn't juggle loving you and being cautious, so I threw caution to the wind. You,  _Lord Voldemort,_ " Voldie blanched, "are my son, through and through."

Harry paused, "Even if you  _didn't_ tell me for the entire four decades you've been able to speak."

He thought of denying it. Telling Harry he was insane.  _How could an adult's memories stick around in a child's brain?_  he'd ask.  _You're obsessed!_ he'd accuse. In the end, the truth won out. "You've  _known_  this whole time?" Voldie asked in a mere whisper.

"You're not exactly at your best when your brain is in the single digits of development," Harry rolled his eyes, "Sure, you dumbed down your vocabulary. Suppressed the knowledge. As if I didn't notice the way you practically played the children around you like violins. Even the first time through, you weren't quite that skilled at manipulation."

"You put me through all those lessons, and you  _knew_?" Voldie exclaimed, "You were boring me out of my mind!"

"Well, you  _did_ need some humbling, and, to be fair," Harry waved a finger around pointedly, "it looks like some of those lessons sunk in."

"...You may be right. I have... a lot to lose, now." A pause, and the words came slowly, almost reluctantly, "What's stopping me from killing you now to preserve my secret?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Voldie," Harry leaned in slowly as if about to share a secret and, abruptly, poked his nose, "You're my son, and you love me."

For a moment, Voldemort stared at the man who had cursed him to relive his life. Had intentionally antagonized him with knowledge he already knew, called him  _Voldie_ , dared to discipline him, and  _lied_  to him daily. The same man who had coddled him, and laughed with him, cared for him, loved him, and  _raised_ him…

Voldie took down the privacy ward, looping his father's arm through his, so he needn't rely on his cane. "Leg acting up, old man?"

"I love you, too, Voldie," Harry laughed, and the two walked away from Courtroom Ten.


End file.
